Short Stories with Tragic Endings
by X180
Summary: In which Tweek is fed up with Craig. POEMFIC/CREEK/ANGST/ (This story led me to intense humiliation.)
1. I'm Sorry, Craig

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

**A/N: Ahem; I'm sorry for another Oneshot. **

**ANYWAYS, You all better appreciate this because I was caught rapping out the lyrics at the top of my lungs by my stepmom and I feel ready to cry.**

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Dear Craig;

I'm sorry I'm not brave enough to say this to your face,

A lot's been going on and I can't risk that what I say,

Will be riddled with my bothersome tics, slurs, and shrieks,

But I've been thinking 'bout it as I lay beneath these sheets.

That I can't deal with the mind-numbing pressure that it takes,

To deal with the weight of your fucking problems every single day,

So please heed what I word in my sloppy chicken scratch

I need you to understand that a first love can also be the last.

I am not a punching bag you can beat away your grief with,

I'm a fucking human being and I _demand_ to be well-treated,

I'm not a miracle, Craig. I can't make it all go away,

And I am not just a fuck you can brag about when your _other_ friends get laid.

I understand that you're going through a difficult time in life.

I know that you're hurt and screamed at and that your head ain't right.

But Craig, I'm only human, and there's only so much I can take,

And there's only enough will within me, and only so much strength.

You're going to make me lose it, man; I'm falling into bits,

And I don't deserve the pain for when your _dad_ treats you like shit.

I can't handle the stress of always being there for you,

I'm sorry, but there's only so much that I'm capable to do.

I'm trying my one-hundred percent best to help you cope

But there's not the same love in your eyes that used to give me hope.

I'm sorry if this lined graph paper isn't sincere enough for you,

But it'd the only thing I have which you can't see where I've cried to.

So when you get this note from my shaking, sweaty hand,

Get back to me real soon, so that I know you understand,

It doesn't even have to be face-to-face or over the phone,

You can just write right back to me, (It don't even have to be a poem).

I'm sorry if this comes off as rude, and I don't mean any hate,

But for things to get better there must be some action I can take.

I just want us to go back to what we were like you said we'd be.

"I love you so much, Craig Tucker". From your only; Tweek Tweak.

Dear Craig:

You still haven't replied, I don't like seeing you so down,

Just remember that I'll be there to help you turn yourself around,

And if you need to take it slower and do it step by step,

I won't mind your pace at all; it beats hanging to what's left.

Of you, and all that you once meant to a stupid guy like me,

I know I'm not ideal; I'm actually sort of a broken machine,

With a bunch of wayward bolts, and a handful of missing screws,

Plus about a dozen electrical wires that have somehow fallen loose.

I love you more than anybody else in this whole wide place,

And I love it even more when I can actually put a smile on your face,

But fuck, man, this whole thing has got to end sometime very soon,

I'm going to leave you man, if that's something I can actually do.

You've done nothing since my last note but treat me even more like shit,

I won't mention any names, but you made someone slit their wrists,

And that someone watched their red blood pool at their feet,

And prayed that you'd never notice the way they wore longer sleeves.

You didn't by the way, just thought that you should know,

That while this kid tried his best, you'd flip him off, and clutch his throat,

And snarl in that deep angry voice that he had learned to fear,

"Get the fuck away from me, you useless fucking queer,"

Then throw him on the hardwood, kick him like a toy,

Just because he wanted to talk to that one McCormick boy.

I –I mean- he, shouldn't have to go through all of this abuse,

And he doesn't need to hear another apology or goddamned excuse.

He's a little fucking batshit, and not right in the mind,

And he'll probably do something drastic; it's only a matter of time.

You can save him, Craig, act like the hero you can never be,

And when you save his life, you'll re-ignite some hope in me.

In the past two weeks, he's taken several too many wrong turns,

He hasn't eaten in a long time, and on his arm there are ten burns,

For every fucking time you've warned him to stay thin,

He whips out his dollar-store lighter, and burns himself again.

Because the pain feels something special, and when he's feeling dead,

And when he thinks he's hearing voices rampant in his head,

He quiets down and sits alone with a ready glass of gin,

Pulls out that goddamned lighter, and watches the flame melt his skin,

And every time it hurts, he looks down at his the ribs poking out his chest,

He remembers you like him this way, and knows it's for the best.

Because he loves you, man. All he wants is to see you grin,

Because when you do, it's worth all the burns upon his skin.

So I'm going to warn you one more fucking time,

I promise that if you're willing, we can be just fine,

But if you continue to hurt and to abuse the ones you trust,

You'll be all alone one day staring at their dead body, and clawing at the dust,

All I want is one fucking letter back that says "Okay,"

Or a little goddamned note that says, "I'll get better someday,"

I promise, hollow words will be all I need not to cry,

And if you say it in a kinder voice, then I can learn to love a lie.

Yours Only, Tweek Tweak.

Dear Craig:

I'm sorry I ain't writing this down, but I've got no choice,

Because I want you to hear the hurt and desperation in my voice

So I've got my tape recorder that I haven't used since 2002,

And a ready message I'm going to send to you,

And I hope you fucking hear it, and I hope it brings you pain,

And I hope it hurts even more when you listen once again,

I want you to suffer so fucking bad, for all you've put me through,

It's almost laughable to admit that I still fucking love you.

It's been six months since my last goddamned note,

And since then I've passed the time with forty un-sent ones that I wrote,

You just brushed me off, and you never felt the need to try,

Never said a word and read them aloud right in front of my eyes.

So I hope you're happy now, when you finally get this tape,

And I take back that line in my first note; I do mean to send you hate.

I hate you so much, Craig Tucker, I just want to fucking die.

And when I go to hell for killing myself, I know you'll soon be at my side.

I've got a twenty-two pistol; it's enough to kill if I shoot just right,

And I hope when the gunshot rings you'll lose sleep at night,

Just replaying this voice recording over and over in your head,

And hating yourself because this will be the last you hear me before I'm dead,

And the last you seen me was just seven hours ago, if you recall,

I walked in on you pressing that McCormick boy against the wall.

Then when I spoke up, you flipped me off and forced me to go,

Well I suppose you've got your wish, and maybe now you'll know.

That when the judge hears this, as she's reading out my will,

Everyone will understand that I was not the one who made the kill.

And I hope that she sends you to life locked up and away,

And stuck inside a prison where you'll never see the light of day.

I don't want you to die, I want you to suffer and rot,

Not so quick and easy like how I will with just one shot.

And now since the show's all over, since the noose has been set to hang,

I'll press the cold gun up to my forehead, squeeze the trigger and *BANG*


	2. How Dare You, Tweek

**I DO NOT OWN SOUTH PARK**

**A/N: You know that saying, "There are two sides to every story?" Yeah. This is the second side. Two people asked me to write up a response from Craig, and... I tried. I'm sorry this sucks major ass. **

**And thank you to the Tumblr user who fucking made my day and drew the most beautiful fanart of this! I can't find her post or her username anywhere, but if anyone cold tell me, I'd be glad to credit it. Plus, shameless self promotion, My Tumblr URL is thatlamekidsart.**

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Dear Tweek,

I'm sorry- I just wanted to write that down.

But how dare you even accuse me of fooling around?

How dare you lie, and how dare you present,

All of this fucking shit, all these lies, and phony evidence?

How dare you blame my father, and try to justify,

What you did to me, and how dare to you claim that you're right

I can't believe you had it in you; can't believe you'd do this,

Can't believe that you'd take me, and then put me through this,

That I don't deserve, and after everything I've done

I got the upper hand and you still think you fucking won.

Yeah, I know you're out there. I know your satisfied.

The judge almost set me in chains, till I convinced them that you lied.

I'd never fucking hurt you, you were like a precious thing,

That I would protect with open arms, for all the hate the world would bring.

We're both trapped in our minds, begging to escape.

But I'll never resort to leaving the world that way.

You were something special, not my entire life.

And with a little bit of strength, I can push on through this night.

And the next, and the next, for as long as I have to

And I'll keep going with the thought that I can still be stronger than you.

I'd never hit you! I can't believe you'd try,

To convince them that I did, and I asked them to visualize,

How I felt that night, when I pushed you to the floor,

While you screeched and howled and blocked the goddamn door,

Accusing me of cheating, and accusing me of lying

Claiming that you'd kill yourself, and that you were done with trying,

Getting violent and terrifying in the middle of the night,

Telling me you're paranoid and that my head ain't screwed on right,

Swinging a fucking knife, and pressing it to my throat,

And beating my ass while holding the collar of my coat,

And I took it, because I couldn't stand to hurt the one I love,

Even if you were batshit crazy, I still held you above

That drowning sea of demons that would only pull you down

Makes you sick to your stomach, how I never made a sound

You had the blade pressed to my neck, and began to cut,

So I yelled and I disarmed you, and jabbed you in the gut,

I still feel horrible, but I don't regret a second.

I don't regret a move I made, because you were fucking hectic

You would've killed me, right? You would've pulled the blade,

You would've let our beige rug become dirty and stained.

Maybe I did some wrongs too, you're not all to blame

Because I never stopped you when you had your finger to that flame,

And cried out for help as your skin charred off,

Yeah, I heard that, and I could only sneer and scoff,

And I'm sorry I never seen you as the perfect boy you were

I won't lie, I criticized, and I could never see the allure

Of your face, and your eyes, and your shy little grin

But all the pretty outside won't hide the ugly within.

I'm sorry that I made you feel helpless, I'm sorry I didn't change

But it wouldn't mean a thing if only I re-arranged

I'm sorry I never noticed how you wore longer shirts,

I'm sorry that I never told you all that you were worth,

You were right, these regrets still haunt me to this day,

And I'm amazed that with all this shit, both of us managed to stay

Yes, I hung around that McCormick boy sometimes.

And I let things between us mistakenly ignite.

And I took it too far, and came home covered in sweat.

At late hours of the night, and still stinking of sex.

And I held you in those same hands that I sinned with,

And kissed you with those same lips and asked you to forget it

All this pain that I caused and all this tumult and turmoil,

I tried to light broken lights while good lanterns would burn oil

But how could I forgive you, how could you justify?

Leaving me in the world to listen to you die,

And hearing that ghastly scream as the gun roared to life,

And ended your own, on that cursed night?

I showed the judge the burns you gave me with your lighter,

And I showed all the bruises that proved you were the fighter,

I asked her to imagine that I was walking home,

In the dark of South Park, tired and alone,

After a long night of working my second fucking shift,

I came home to you, throwing a mother-fucking fit,

Screaming that there were cameras in your skin, there were devices

That there were people watching you every single night, it's

A little exhausting, and I tried to soothe you,

I sat you on my lap and then I tried to subdue you,

But you wouldn't have it, no you wouldn't stop,

You shattered a glass on the floor, and sent me into shock,

As you took it and then cut my skin with the shards

And then pressed it into the flesh just above my heart.

Tweek, I'm truly sorry, for everything I've done.

I'm sorry for you, too, because you think you've won.

But I'm still alive and well, and though still a little stressed,

I have another boyfriend who won't leave wounds on my chest,

While that McCormick boy will kiss my every cut and burn,

And help me take all the fucking ashes in your urn,

And throw them in the river, and help me turn my shoulder,

You lost fair and square, Tweek. Game over.


End file.
